


you should see me in a crown

by skimmillk



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: A few OCs but mainly minor characters, ABO elements, Abuse, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Buff Keith (Voltron), Cheating, Fluff, Humor, Keith is stupid tall, Kinda, King Shiro (Voltron), Kingdoms, Lance and Keith have history, Lance and Lotor are married, Lotor stans this one ain’t for you, M/M, Magic, Mythology - Freeform, Prince Keith (Voltron), Prince Lance (Voltron), Resolved Sexual Tension, Sexual Tension, Smut, Top Keith (Voltron), Violence, all happy stuff you know, and im not sorry, and the feeling is mutual owo, but Lance is in love with Keith, dont get used to it, everyone is royal basically, hes a real prick, its all game of thrones in here, it’ll be explained eventually don’t come for me, like omegaverse but not really, lots of sex wow, more tags as I go along, theyre not aliens
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-05-05
Packaged: 2019-10-14 12:52:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17508998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skimmillk/pseuds/skimmillk
Summary: Three years. It was amazing how even after three years, Lance’s heart still swelled as he approached the scene, those broad and muscular shoulders covered by that large leather and furred coat, and Lance couldn’t even think about how the hell he managed to wear that thing in this heat when he was justthere.“Keith?”—(or a Royalty AU that no one asked for)





	1. reunion

**Author's Note:**

> y’all this story is complicated. I’m aiming for one update a week, just to give myself time to write everything cause that puppy is gonna be LONG. (Also, lots of mature themes, it’s gonna be kinda shameless)

Warmth.

The steam of the water sent a soft fog throughout the room, flower petals of a light pink and white floating along the surface, a few droplets of water slipping over the edge of the porcelain. A light breeze filtered in through the open balcony, the translucent sheets hung from the ceiling dancing in the disruption. Sunlight filtered in through the gaps of tall pillars, cascading the room in a golden glow. The surface of the water glimmered as if it were a pile of polished gold, tan skin resting beneath, and it was _warm_. 

A head tipped back, soft hair, stained darker from the sopping water, a sigh escaping two lips though drowned out by the slight bob of the water around the body. Two eyes fluttered between shut and open, gazing towards the painted ceiling. The years old decorations of angles in the sky, naked with wings and colorful silks and skies. Oh, how Lance adored those paintings. They made the room feel a little less lonely, and the certainly made his husband feel a little more lavish.

Of course, nothing could ever please his husband too much. 

“Your grace,” a voice popped up as the door was pushed open a crack, creaking from the sudden movement. A bit of water spilled over the edge of the tub as Lance moved to sit up, looking towards the woman that presented herself. “I’m sorry to disturb you, but the lord wishes to see you.”

“I see,” Lance replied shortly, turning his head to gaze toward the balcony, another gentle breath escaping past his lips. “I’ll be out shortly. Some privacy, please.”

“Of course, your grace,” the woman nodded with her head bent, stepping backwards and letting the door fall shut, a loud bang echoing through the room without something to brace it.

Lance spent another lingering moment within the tub, sinking down until his entire body was underneath, keeping his breath stored within his rib cage until he physically couldn’t bare to remain underneath for a moment longer, coming up with several short breaths. 

He rose from the water, the warm droplets tracing the dimples and curves of his legs and hips, a small puddle forming in the gaps of his collarbones before they overflowed and water trailed down his bare chest, tan skin glistening moistly, glimmering underneath the rays of golden sun. A maid was quick to hand Lance a robe as he stepped out, the fabric dampening slightly as Lance slipped into the silk, tied tight around his waist. The woman worked quickly to dry Lance’s hair with a soft towel, the long brown strands jutting out in all different directions with that fluffy texture that could only be accomplished when wet, until Lance ran a hand through the locks to smooth them down. After all, appearance was everything around here.

Lance kept his hands clad at his sides while he walked from the tubside down to the door, opening the wooden gateway and then venturing out into the hall, his bare feet slapping gently against the carved tile. His hair tapped heavily at his back and slipped over his shoulders, getting a bit lighter as the warm breeze wafted in through the open windows.

“Where is he?” 

“In your bedroom, sir,” the servant replied, her head bowed and Lance spared her a passing glance as he took off towards the master bedroom, the muscles in his body tensing to slow the journey down, if even slightly.

He could hear noises from inside the room. Noises he recognized all too well. Noises that drove a sword through his abdomen and twisted the blade, churning his organs and burning a nauseating sensation in the back of his throat. 

Moans. 

Moans of women presumably purchased from whore houses, laughter and pleasured cries. And worst of all, his husband’s voice, clear as day behind the large wooden doors, the room guarded by a large man in full metal armor, whose name Lance didn’t care or bother to learn. Grunts and deep chuckles, noises that should’ve been reserved for Lance’s ears only, were being broadcasted for the whole damn corridor to hear, and Lance could do nothing besides wait outside of the room until his husband decided he was tired of the women and sent them away.

It must’ve been hours, from the distant soreness in Lance’s bare feet and leg muscles, his hair growing nearly dry now, a slight chill running through him from the draftiness of a simple silk robe, but finally those painful noises stopped and the doors swung open.

A handful of women erupted from the bedroom — where Lance _slept_ — some topless with their bosoms out and exposed, pushing past each other and Lance to head towards the exit.

It was disgusting.

“Quit standing there,” Lotor called out from within the room, wearing that damned blissed out face and sitting on the edge of the bed, completely nude and shamelessly exposed to Lance. “Come in.”

So Lance did. 

He walked inside and gently closed the door behind him, standing near the doorway. He tried to hide the bitterness in his expression, wanting nothing more than to lash out because _they_ were married, not Lotor and any of those damned prostitutes that would seek themselves out to anybody for measly bronze coin. 

“What did you need, my love?” He spoke out instead, head bowed towards the ground so Lotor wouldn’t be able to detect his detached and cold state behind his blue irises. 

“Dear, how long have we been married?” Lotor asked, his unusually sharp teeth chewing at his body lip while his eyes raked up and down Lance’s silked body, curling a beckoning pointer finger.

“A little over three years now,” he answered, taking a few cautious steps forward, continuing forward when Lotor’s demanding finger didn’t cease its movement. “Why do you ask, love?”

Lance knew exactly why.

“When will I be king, presumably?” 

“Your father’s health is slowly deteriorating, dear. I couldn’t see him surviving past the winter.” Zarkon had grown old, and sickly was a strong word, but it certainly wasn’t inaccurate. It was true he was dying, but to Lotor, it could never happen quickly enough. But, it was what Lotor wanted to hear. “And then you will ascend to the throne.”

An almost evil grin curled at the corners of Lotor’s mouth, his large, calloused hands raising to Lance’s slim waist, toying suggestively with the sash tied around his frame, which was holding the robe just so as to not indecently expose himself.

“And, Lance, do you care to tell me why the future king has yet to have a son?” His voice was teetering. On the verge of a deep snarl, paired with narrowed eyes and bared teeth.

“Lotor, I—“

“Don’t you dare address me as something so informal, you half-witted serf,” Lotor snapped suddenly, immediately clamping Lance’s jaw shut, the man tilting his head down some. There was the Lotor Lance knew. “I need an heir to the throne.”

“My love,” Lance spoke precariously, not daring to move his head a meet centimeter from its bowed position. “We have tried countless times. We have yet to find the perfect time to assure my impregnation. You will get an heir, I promise.”

Tell him what he wants to hear.

“I do hope you are correct, Lance,” Lotor said, his voice rumbling softly in his chest, his hands trailing down to slip onto his bare skin beneath the robe, traveling back up to feel every inch of the bronze flesh, squeezing and kneading.

Lance, for his own damn safety, wished the same. If he couldn’t produce a male heir — which was his whole intended purpose, to reproduce — he’d surely be killed. Or at the very least tortured and banished for tarnishing Lotor’s royal name and reputation. And yet, every time they’d attempt it, Lance never ended up pregnant. He couldn’t exactly tell Lotor that the reason for this was that Lotor got tired of the slutty women he invited over almost daily — when he didn’t go into town to see _them_ that is — and decided to fuck his actual husband for once on all of the days where he wasn’t ovulating. 

Every. Single. Time. Without fail.

And this time was no different. But once Lotor got into this sort of rut, there was no stopping him, even when Lance was far from the mood he’d like to be in when Lotor initiated intimacy.

Hey, it was very difficult getting aroused when he’d just had to stand alone in the hall for an hour, listening to his husband being intimate with women whose names’ he undoubtedly had no knowledge of.

Still, Lotor took what he wanted, lips and teeth skimming over Lance’s soft skin, the robe having been long discarded at this point, laying in a small heap on the floor. Lance was laid out on his stomach, face buried into one of the soft pillows scattered among the mattress, likely rummaged around during Lotor’s previous activities. His brows twitched as his entrance was breached, a wince quietly escaping through his teeth.

Lotor hadn’t even cared to prepare him, and Lance wasn’t even slightly damp. He was as dry as a desert, but that didn’t slow Lotor down at all. Deep guttural noises came from Lance’s husband as he thrust in mercilessly, Lance muffling his pained cry in the embroidered pillow. 

It hurt so badly. Each snap of Lotor’s hips made Lance feel like he was being torn in half, his body absolutely trembling underneath him. Of course Lotor seemed to be enjoying himself, Lance practically able to see the smirk on his lips at just the satisfied chuckled, dark and low, that tumbled in his throat. 

Lance wanted to tell him to stop. To yell that word so loudly and so demandingly that Lotor would refrain from touching him for a month at least. But he didn’t dare utter it — he just let Lotor take what he wanted, even when he could feel something warm trickling softly from inside of him.

Something else warm flooded inside of Lance as Lotor released inside of him with a deep grunt. Lance trembled, a relieved sigh mixing with a wince as Lotor finally slid out. 

The bed dipped from Lotor’s weight as the male climbed to the floor, leaving Lance alone. Lance could just faintly hear Lotor speaking something of wine, and of the whereabouts of the consorts he had purchased earlier, over his own heartbeat in his ears, thundering away like the beat of drums.

Lance just hoped for an heir soon — he didn’t know how much longer he could stand to live like this.

Lotor was out of the room quickly enough, off to somewhere Lance didn’t particularly care about knowing. Lance rose slowly, his limbs trembling with the effort, and he reached for the silk that had been dropped at the foot of the bed. Standing, he pulled the fabric onto his body, tying it tightly, uncaringly so, and he proceeded to stumble from the room, legs slowly regaining feeling with pins and needles as something warm trickled down his legs.

“Your grace, are you alright?” A servant woman asked, concern laced in her voice and gaze, reaching out to press a consoling hand to Lance’s shoulder, but he slapped it away before it could land.

“Don’t touch me,” he spoke through gritted teeth, clenching his fist where it stood. “Just— please— draw a bath,” he continued, breath vibrating, though he couldn’t he sure whether it was from pain or anger.

“As you wish, your grace,” the woman said quickly with a bow, and then she was rushing off towards the springs, leaving Lance to slowly limp his way there — but this was fine.

Lance wouldn’t let himself grow weak, or else he wouldn’t survive. 

When Lance had reached his personal bathing hall, the room was filled with warm steam from the water’s heat, fresh rose petals placed along the water’s golden surface, the sun slowly beginning to sink down the horizon to signal the end to another day.

Lance walked forward, drops of scarlet blood trailing behind with each heavy footstep. His hands came to his front to undo the knot he had tied, the fabric inching from his arms to lie useless in a pile on the floor. He raised one foot to step in.

“Your grace, the water is too hot—“ a servant choked out, but Lance did not listen. 

A gasp drew from his lips from the immediate impact. The water was searing, immediately reddening his skin some from the rush of blood flow, but further he went. He slowly sank down once both feet were in, breath stuttered and random as he let his mind and body be overcome by this heat, his unfocused gaze trained on the bright sunset from beyond the balcony and silk curtains.

Warmth.

* * *

The garden was particularly peaceful that morning, cast under the rewarding rays of warm sunshine, the skies scarcely overcast over the last several months aside from the occasional rain showers to keep these flowers in bloom, and it showed. The sprouting flowers and vines nearly overwhelmed the beautiful architecture of the castle, looming arches and fountains wrapped in tight flowery hugs from the twisting vines and pink buds. 

And there, in the middle of it all, was Lance, surrounded by the shrubbery while resting on the ledge of the fountain, the rippling of the water nearly drowning out the endless chatter of birds.

Two blue eyes were trained on the waterfall that cascaded from the uppermost story of the marble, so clear that he could almost see his reflection. Looking farther up, Lance could see a statue of the King, Lord Zarkon, Lotor’s father, built completely of marble and gold. 

Soon enough, Lotor’s statue would replace that one, once his father passed and the crown was given to him, as was his birthright. 

Lance tried his best to not think of it.

“Your grace.”

Lance tore his eyes from the statue and towards the voice, staring towards the servant woman that stood before him. 

“Yes?”

“There is someone here to see you.”

Lance furrowed his brows slightly, chest pushing out just a tad. Defensively. You could never know who was here these days, and Lotor certainly wasn’t the most popular official among the other kingdoms. It was only a matter of time before Lance was dragged into the middle.

“Who is it?” Lance asked, straightening his spine. 

“It’s the prince of the Marmoran Kingdom,” she answered, her head bowed politely. “He just arrived.”

Lance stood upon this, his hands curled slightly at his sides. “I’ll be right there.”

Lance felt light on his feet, his heart racing between his ribs. This was a dream, there was no way that he was _here_. 

Three years. It was amazing how even after three years, Lance’s heart still swelled as he approached the scene, those broad and muscular shoulders covered by that large leather and furred coat, and Lance couldn’t even think about how the hell he managed to wear that thing in this heat when he was just _there_. 

“Keith?”

* * *

The horse galloped along the trail, indented with the steps of horses that had traveled before him, its rider bouncing along with each forward step upon the heavy saddle. Heads turned at his arrival, and word must’ve travelled fast, servants scurrying to alert the nearest lord of the prince’s arrival.

He was stopped at the front of the castle, something that was to honestly be expected. No kingdom was very welcoming of foreign visitors these days, and for good reasons. Someone completely trustworthy was incredibly rare to come by. 

The doors opened, and a woman walked out, her light violet hair darker underneath the shadows of the pillars upon the marble staircase, golden eyes casting a searing gaze.

“Well,” the woman hummed, and he could hear the bitterness behind her voice, with little surprise. “If it isn’t Keith Kogane.”

“In the flesh,” Keith nodded, a little smirk yanking the corners of his mouth.

“Now how long has it been since a Marmoran has graced this place with their presence?”

“Quite some time, I’ll admit.” Keith jumped from his horse, feet hitting the ground with a small grunt, and a servant was quick to come and lead the horse away by the reins. “Careful with him, he’s feisty!” He called out, before turning his gaze back up towards the woman before him.

“Your brother sent you?”

“You can read me all too well, your grace,” Keith hummed, leaning forward with one hand behind his back, taking the woman’s hand into his own and pressing a formal kiss to the back of it.

“Keith?”

The voice had the prince standing up straight, head whipping around to look for the source. His eyes fell upon an all too familiar pair of blue irises. 

“Lance.” The word left Keith’s mouth as a punched out whisper, his throat feeling tight, chest clenching. He could hardly breathe. His feet were carrying him before he even realized it, forward, quick, until he was standing right before Lance, separated by just a few inches. 

“You…” Lance trailed off, eyes quickly dancing up and down Keith’s frame, along the muscled chest and arms, across the pinkish scar on Keith’s right cheek, into those deep violet eyes that Lance had dreamed about getting lost in for the past three years — and Keith noticed. “You’ve gotten taller.”

Keith couldn’t help the laugh that left him. 

He also couldn’t help but gaze over Lance’s form as well, eyes taking over every smooth expanse of skin, over each curve of his hips and soft, slender legs. The purple silk that covered the man’s chest loosely, leaving little to the imagination from the gold collar and sinch around the waist, tapering down into two pant legs that hung loosely around his hips, just missing where the bones jutted out at the sides. It was quite a contrast to the blue that Keith had known to be Lance’s staple color, but it seemed that a lot had changed about him. The hair was certainly a change, long brown locks swaying at the small of his back, two pieces strone over his shoulders.

He’d been counting the days it had been since he’d last seen Lance. The days when Lance was a wild, free spirit. When anyone being able to tame him was a crazy fantasy, and Lance did whatever he pleased whenever he pleased. 

Even if things had changed — and things had _changed_ — Lance was still just as alluring as he was back then.

“Or maybe you’ve just gotten shorter,” Keith quipped, gaze flickering back up to Lance’s eyes. 

“Oh, shove it,” Lance snorted, and _god_ Keith missed that laugh.

“I missed you.” The words slipped out before Keith could even think about them, though he didn’t regret them. It was the truth. The whole truth, and nothing but it.

The breath in Lance’s lungs left him, bringing a smug little smile to Keith’s face. And the delectable pink shade that dusted Lance’s cheeks just a moment later made years of waiting worth it.

“As did I.”

Keith wanted to kiss him, as he had done those three long years ago. Wanted to kiss him hard and steal the breath from his lungs, to hold him close and never let go. To get back on his horse with Lance in his lap and run back to his kingdom, and never look back. But when Keith took Lance’s hand into his own, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to the back of it, he saw the ring on his finger.

Gold and beautiful. And it sent a sword right through Keith’s heart, the metal searing his skin.

“Mother, what is going on—“

Keith stood up straight again, both him and Lance looking towards the man that stood at the top of the steps. 

Lance yanked his hand away quickly, and Keith felt a cold shiver run through his body.

“Your highness,” Keith spoke, walking towards the steps again, folding one arm across his waist as he bowed down. 

“You have some nerve coming here.”

“Lotor, my love,” Lance spoke as he walked past Keith and up the steps, standing in front of the tall prince and clasping his hands in his own. “He’s a friend, at least hear him out.”

Keith tried to hide how Lance’s words made him feel nauseous, swallowing the lump in his throat as he stood up straight.

“What do you know?” Lotor hissed, and Keith had to clench his fists behind him to hold himself back as Lotor shoved Lance to the side, as if he were some piece of junk. Something that didn’t matter. The yelp that escaped Lance as he hit the ground was enough to make Keith fume with murder.

But that’s not why he was here.

“Lotor,” Honerva reprimanded with a single word and side eyed glance. 

“Explain yourself.” It was directed towards Keith this time, who managed to tear his eyes away from the recoiled body on the marble, Lance’s head bowed down so that his hair was shielding his face.

Once Keith was certain his voice wouldn’t come out as dark and murderous as he felt, he spoke. “My brother sent me here for a peace offering. If accepted, me and a few of our best Marmoran soldiers will remain here to protect your family and the castle during the transition of power.”

“And what makes you think we’ll require your assistance?” Honerva spoke, Keith’s eyes flickering towards Lance as he finally stood up, his head remaining in that submissive angle — something so unlike the prince he had known before — and it made Keith’s stomach churn. 

“Well we hope it won’t be necessary,” Keith answered, looking back towards the Queen. “But we are offering regardless. We hope to renew our relationship with Daibazaal, as is my brother’s wish.”

“I do not need protection,” Lotor nearly growled, and he might as well have, and Keith watched, filled with fear and anger and that nauseous feeling again as Lance reached out for the man, holding his arm against his chest.

“My love, it would bring me much pleasure to know that you were safe,” Lance cooed, running the backs of his fingers along Lotor’s cheek as the prince looked down at him.

That seemed to convince Lotor, a begrudging sigh escaping the man. He looked back to Keith, eyes narrowing in a bitter glare.

“Very well.”

“I’m glad you—“

“You will stand post outside of my quarters at all times, night and day,” Lotor continued, stepping out of Lance’s embrace, walking down the steps until he was standing right before Keith, and the distance, or lack thereof, would have been intimidating if Keith already didn’t want to murder the man for shoving Lance down just a moment ago. “Until your squadron arrives.”

“As you wish, your highness.”

“And,” Lotor said, voice hushed, just for Keith to hear. “If I even hear about you laying a finger on my consort, I will have your head on a spike.”

Keith felt like he was going to puke. Not touching Lance? Impossible. Death seemed like a worthy consequence for just being able to feel a pair smooth lips against his own just one more time. Hell, Keith would do it just to hold his hand, or to run his fingers through his hair. 

But then again, dying meant he wouldn’t get to look at him, and that simply wouldn’t do.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” And he was lying straight through his teeth. He had dreamed of nothing else since the day Lance had left. 

Lotor flashed a satisfied smirk and turned away, Keith’s glare following him and he approached Lance again, and he just about gagged when Lotor tilted Lance’s head up by his chin and planted a deep kiss against the other’s lips. Keith could taste the bile in his throat when Lance kissed back.

Thankfully, Lotor had pulled away before Keith could spill that mornings rations onto the marble, and he turned to enter the castle again. Honerva followed swiftly behind, and before he could focus on something else besides puking, Lance’s eyes were on him.

Then Lance was in front of him. Just inches away from his grasp.

So, _so_ close, and yet Keith couldn’t reach him.

“You’re happy here,” Keith finally said, breaking the silence as well as his heart. 

“I… guess you could say that.”

Keith wasn’t sure if it hurt more for Lance to be happy with Lotor, or if it hurt more for Lance to be unhappy. Either way, his chest hurt.

“Do you love him, at least?”

Lance breathed out a smile, glancing back towards the castle, where Lotor had disappeared within. 

“I tried.”

Fuck it. If he didn’t touch Lance now, he might actually die.

Keith reached, taking Lance’s hand in his own, squeezing and regaining the shorter male’s attention. It was silent, but looking into Lance’s eyes, Keith knew everything he had to. Lance didn’t have to say anything.

“I… heard about you father,” Lance spoke up, his voice quiet, a respectful and timid tone that Keith had hardly ever heard from him. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you,” Keith nodded, voice just as soft.

“He was a great man. I wish I could’ve seen him again, before he passed.”

“He remembered you fondly, Lance. We all do,” he assured, stroking his thumb along Lance’s knuckles. God, he couldn’t even begin to count all of the sleepless nights he’d had, plagued with the simple thought of getting to see Lance again, and here he was, touching him, wanting so much of what he couldn’t have.

“How is my mother?”

“She’s well,” Keith answered, a gentle smile finding his expression. “She speaks of you constantly, whenever I visit.”

“And father?”

“He’s also well, doesn’t speak of you as much, but always smiles fondly whenever your name is mentioned.”

“My father never was the talkative type.”

It felt good to talk again, to catch up on the three years lost. Every curve upward of Lance’s lips made Keith’s heart to skip a beat, and he still hadn’t figured out how Lance had managed to make such a scary and threatening man so goddamn soft. Then again, Keith wasn’t complaining. Not at all.

Even as their hands left one another and Lance lead Keith into the castle, down the large and twisting halls, Keith couldn’t find it in himself to be focused on the gorgeous architecture when there was an actual angel next to him, glowing as bright as the northern star.

“And this is where you’ll be staying,” Lance explained, pointing towards one of the several rooms along the hall, pushing the door open to show off the large bed and a window giving a view of the whole kingdom. “If Lotor lets you sleep, that is.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“You always do,” Lance finished for him, flashing Keith a hint of that smirk that had pissed him off when they had first met, but now he just thought was endearing. It certainly didn’t make him any less kissable. “It’s nothing much, but I figured you should still have a room.”

“It’s wonderful, Lance. Thank you.”

When Lance looked at him and flashed that kind and welcoming smile, Keith wanted to kiss him. Again. Not like he never didn’t want to do that, but still.

In fact, Keith slowly moved closer, something rumbling in his chest when Lance had to tilt his chin up to look at him. A hand moved to cup Lance’s cheek, his thumb grazing along the skin along Lance’s cheekbone, his calloused fingers gently scratching the smooth surface. It was when Lance’s hand came up to rest over Keith’s, did Keith realize what he was doing. 

And that ring, bright as ever, was mocking him.

“I appreciate the hospitality,” Keith managed to say, holding back that untamable urge to pull Lance flush against him and devour him.

“It was nothing,” Lance nodded as Keith stepped away, and when Keith stepped into the room and the door fell shut, Lance couldn’t help the disappointment that washed over him. 

“Pull yourself together, Lance,” he groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Lance wanted so much. Too much. Keith was just in that room, a small walk away from his grasp, and yet Lance couldn’t have him. 

Not unless he wanted himself and Keith to keep their heads. 

Lance sighed out a breath, turning his head as he heard footsteps approaching down the hall. A servant, presumably doing their rounds.

“Draw a bath,” Lance ordered as he walked by, willing himself to not look back. He couldn’t look back.

He couldn’t.


	2. connected

_”I love you.”_

_The words slipped out of Keith’s mouth as naturally as his breath, a smile curling his lips as he gazed down at the boy below him, two arms linked around the back of his neck._

_“I know.” Lance snickered, drawing a playful, scandalized gasp from Keith. He rocked his hips forward, moving one of his hands from the side of Lance’s head to Lance’s leg, propping it up over his shoulder. “Aah—“_

_“Fuck,” Keith groaned, dropping his head down as white flashed behind his eyelids. “So much,” he mumbled, kissing along Lance’s leg, nipping gently at the skin on his thigh._

_Keith had never met anyone like Lance. He had come into his life with all of the grace of a falling asteroid, burning as bright as the sun itself._

_The son of Queen Luxia of Mer and Lord Dyal of Altea, Lance was a prince of great wealth and power, both politically and magically. A real spoiled brat in practice, but the kindest to those who were close to him, with that damned competitive spirit that got Keith scowling each time without fail._

_And Keith had never fallen so hard before._

_Every smile, every hidden glance, every little giggle and brush of their fingers during long walks through the snow. Everything Lance did set a fire within Keith, and even in the snowy woods of Marmora, Keith was so warm._

_Miraculously, Lance loved him back. Lance, the most beautiful thing to ever grace this planet, loved him._

_It was like a dream._

_“Marry me.” Keith had offered one night, Lance curled in his arms, thick fur blanket pulled over their bodies to shield from the brisk winter outside._

_“What?” Lance looked up at him, a surprised giggle on his tongue._

_“Marry me.”_

_Lance laughed. A bright, airy giggle that got Keith laughing himself._

_“You don’t want to marry me,” Lance hummed, wearing that addicting smile as he leaned forward to nuzzle his head against Keith’s neck._

_“I do!” Keith retorted, laughing. He held onto Lance as he rolled over, settling between the boy’s legs. He never wanted to look away from those eyes. “I really do.”_

_“Oh yeah?” Lance grinned, and Keith couldn’t resist kissing those lips that he loved so much._

_“Yeah,” Keith nodded, and nothing had ever felt so natural. “I want nothing more.”_

_Lance’s playful, almost cocky expression faltered, softening into that fond look that nearly brought Keith to loving tears._

_“You’re the only person I’ve ever loved,” Keith continued, bringing his hands to Lance’s face, delicately holding his head in his hands. “You’re the only person I want to love.”_

_“I feel the same,” Lance whispered, a secret vow just for Keith, who leaned down again to steal the words from his lips. “It’s only ever been you.”_

_Keith had fallen so hard in love that he only slipped deeper every time he tried to climb out._

_“So is that a yes?” Keith asked when he pulled away, breath ghosting over Lance’s lips, which curved into an amused smile._

_“Do I even have to answer that?”_

_“I just want to hear you say it.”_

_Lance sighed, eyes bright and smile ever brighter._

_“Yes. Yes I’ll marry you.”_

_Keith pumped his fist in the air, celebrating so dramatically that it made Lance — the biggest drama queen in all of the six kingdoms — snort and roll his eyes._

_Being in love with another prince should have been a good thing. It should’ve led to the combination of the two kingdoms, a strong alliance formed by love and trust._

_But it was all too good to be true._

_Keith should’ve known this day would come. He should’ve known, should have never even approached Lance that one fateful day._

_Daibazaal took everything from him._

_Lance was his everything. And now he couldn’t even see him._

_“I’m so sorry Keith,” Lance sighed, his voice, usually light and angelic, trembling with fear and grief, as if on the verge of tears. “It’s already done. I leave for Daibazaal tomorrow.”_

_No. No no no, please. God, don’t take Lance. Please._

_“Please, Keith, look at me.” Lance was practically begging now, coaxing Keith’s head to look into his eyes, but Keith couldn’t bring himself to lock gazes with him._

_“If I look at you,” Keith breathed out, voice wavering just as much as Lance’s was. “I’ll never be able to look away.”_

_It didn’t matter much. Even after Lance had gone, the warmth slipping from his grasp with the ocean tides, all he could think about were those eyes._

_So deep and blue, that not even the depths of the ocean could rival their glow._

_This wasn’t fair._

_Keith deserved to be the one watching Lance walk down the aisle, crying tears of joy as they sealed their love with a kiss, making Lance finally his._

_Keith had been there for all of Lance’s firsts._

_First kiss, shared underneath the canopy of falling snow. Keith had just returned from the war, the one that finally gave Marmora their independence as a separate kingdom to Daibazaal. Lance had been waiting for him, much to Keith’s surprise, but how he had gotten there didn’t matter much once Lance rose to his tiptoes to plant a gentle, close-mouthed kiss to Keith’s lips._

_First date, when Lance insisted on dragging Keith to the cave where he would run away to be alone sometimes back at his own kingdom. The crystals along the walls of the cave twinkled like stars among the indigo sky, reflecting the shine in the water, let into the cave by a small waterfall on one of the walls._

_Hell, Keith had even been the one to deflower the prince, and he was damn proud of it._

_And still, even with all of that, Lotor was able to sweep in and steal his fiancé with a simple word. No one could refuse him, and no matter how much Keith begged, it was impractical to start another war with Daibazaal just to get the love of his life back._

_“Keith?” Lance asked as he pulled away from their final embrace, gazing up into Keith’s eyes. Keith couldn’t help but gaze back, no matter how much it hurt._

_“Yes, my love?”_

_“Will you forget about me?”_

_“Never,” he replied, so quickly that Lance hardly finished his sentence. “I wouldn’t ever dream of it.”_

_“You should try.”_

Keith’s eyes shot open, sunlight seeping in through the one window along the wall. He sighed, palms clammy as he slowly sat up, running a hand down his sweat soaked face. 

He was so fucked.

* * *

“A raven has been sent to Marmora to relay the message of the peace agreement, my lord.”

The servants words didn’t register much with Keith, who was still shaken from the previous night’s sleep. Or, more accurately, the lack thereof. He’d had these dreams before, where his brain would sadistically replay the moment where Keith lost his only love, but nothing was ever as realistic as it had been that time. 

The wound felt fresh all over again.

He supposed it could be because Lance was this close to him now, just a short walk away at all times, yet he was forbidden from touching him. Lance was married to Lotor, as awful and as twisted as that man was, Keith had no right to interfere. Even if he wanted to.

And oh _god_ did he want to.

“My lord?”

Keith jerked slightly, flickering back into reality and looking towards the servant escorting him.

“I’m sorry— what were you saying?”

“It’s quite alright, my lord. I was just saying how Prince Lotor’s chambers were right down this hallway, where he requested to have you posted at until your men arrive.”

“He requested that, hm?” Keith inquired as they continued down the hall. Needless to say, the noises faintly echoing towards his ears were intriguing.

“Yes.”

“Odd.” Was all Keith had to say before those noises registered. That couldn’t be what he thought, right?

“Are these sounds common?”

“Oh, yes, my lord. Lotor remains in his chambers quite often.”

Keith nodded, ignoring the sickly churning in the pit of his stomach. “And it’s safe to assume that his majesty is in there with him?” He was quite sure he knew what Lance sounded like in bed, and what he was hearing was certainly not it.

“I’m afraid not.”

“Your grace!” The servant spattered, quickly turning towards the noise that had come from behind, Keith calmly following suit. 

“I’ll escort him from here, Octavius,” Lance said with a smile that Keith simply could not understand, and the boy quickly nodded his head before retreating away down the hall. That left just Keith and Lance.

“Do you know about this?” Keith could feel that subsided anger begin to boil once more, rumbling deep within his chest. 

“Very much so,” he nodded.

“And you’re okay with it?”

“Now I never said that,” Lance laughed — _laughed — shaking his head. “But the day Lotor listens to me is the day the ocean dries up.”_

Keith could kill Lotor now, if he wanted to. Which he did, very much, actually. Having someone like Lance, Keith could never imagine laying with another. Ever.

“Unbelievable.”

“Look on the bright side,” Lance hummed, his shoes clocking against the flooring as he sauntered past Keith. “If he’s fucking other women, he’s not fucking me.”

“But—“ Even if Keith very much enjoyed the notion of Lotor keeping his filthy, adulterous hands off of Lance, this was wrong. “ _You’re_ his husband.”

“And my favorite wine is red,” Lance snorted, turning his head to face Keith, wearing a playful smirk, along with another emotion that Keith couldn’t quite read. “We could stand here and spit out useless facts all day, but that won’t change anything.”

“And you expect me to just— _stand_ out here and listen while he insults you!”

“Oh, heavens no,” Lance snickered, scrunching his nose. “I expect you to _follow_ me. What would a weak boy like me do out in the garden without any protection?”

Keith huffed out an amused grin, bowing his head slightly before resuming his steps forward, following the prince. 

“Glad to see your snarky attitude is still there.”

“They can take my name and my wealth, but they can never take me,” Lance nodded, looking to the side as they walked, side by side. “I pride myself on my snarky attitude, after all.”

“Oh, I’m well aware, your grace,” Keith chuckled, returning Lance’s gaze as the shorter prince lead them out towards the garden. “I pride myself on knowing you well, after all.”

“I’m flattered, my lord. And here I was believing that all you prided yourself on was your sword and your lack of fear for death,” Lance jested, laughing airily. 

“You always come first,” Keith spoke, truthfully, shooting Lance that fond smile that couldn’t help growing on his lips when in his majesty’s presence. “You know that.”

Lance smiled softly, his head nodding a few times. Those long brown waves bounced slightly from the disturbance.

“That I do.”

The sunlight was warm against Keith’s skin, specifically the black leather and fur he adorned — traditional Marmoran armor.

“How do you wear that here?” Lance asked, amusing laced in his tone. “You must be scalding.”

“You know the conditions in Marmora,” Keith laughed. “Here is comfortably warm. Perfect temperature for my armor.”

“Marmora is bitterly cold all year round.”

“My point exactly.”

“You couldn’t ever wear your armor in Mer,” Lance retorted, smirking. The expression he adorned when he believed Keith to be bested. “The climates here and there are very similar, no?”

“I don’t think it was the heat removing my armor, your grace.”

Watching that light pink flutter to Lance’s cheeks was euphoric, and if Keith listened closely enough he swore he could hear the singing of angels. 

“I suppose it wasn’t.”

Keith laughed, looking forward for a moment to take i the royal garden as they entered through the vine-entangled arch, rose bushes blooming with deep red and pink petals. He didn’t look for too long, however. Not with an even prettier flower walking beside him.

“I haven’t seen any little ones running around,” Keith spoke, a subtle subject change from their silence, as comfortable as it could get after several years of separation. “Are they shy?”

“I’m afraid they’re nonexistent,” Lance explained briefly, fingers leaving lingering touches on the rose petals while they approached the fountain in the middle of the garden. 

Keith blinked, his fond — almost forced — expression sinking into one of confusion, thick brows furrowed.

“You haven’t had a child yet?”

“That would be a no, my lord. Last time I checked, I wasn’t speaking Balmeran.”

While Lance was keeping the conversation light and airy, Keith was genuinely curious. And, maybe a little thankful, though he kept that bubbling gratitude to himself. 

“If you don’t mind my asking, your grace, but is there a reason for it?”

“Simple,” Lance nodded, lowering down to sit upon the edge of the marble fountain, gazing at his reflection on the surface of the water. “My husband is an idiot.”

“Pardon?” Keith asked, and he couldn’t be blamed for the laugh that he choked out while he sat next to Lance, gaze fixated on the prince’s face. 

“He’s an idiot, with a capital ‘i’,” Lance snickered, shaking his head gently, dragging a finger along the surface of the water and watching the ripples spread. “Every time he decides he’d rather fuck me instead of some random whore he bought of the streets, it’s never the right time to knock me up.”

There was venom in Lance’s words, and dammit Keith should not have been as turned on as he was at that. Well, it was a mixture of arousal and anger, because Lance in no way, shape or form, deserved to be treated like this.

Keith hadn’t treated him like this. 

“I’m so sorry,” Keith sighed, eyes flickering down to Lance’s hand. Every fiber of his being was telling him to take it, hold Lance’s hand tight and intertwine those delicate fingers with his, run his thumb over the small bumps that were Lance’s knuckles. But he knew better than that. 

It seemed like Lance didn’t, though. That, or he simply didn’t care. Either way, Keith was grateful.

Lance’s hand in his own felt so nice, like it was back where it belonged. Keith couldn’t even think about trying to stop himself, his hand gently squeezing around Lance’s, drawing a soft breath and smile from the man next to him.

“Why are you sorry?” Lance asked, a small laugh behind his words. “You’re not the one who’s an idiot, for once.”

“Very funny,” Keith chided, giving Lance’s hand a threatening squeeze, but there was playfulness behind it, they both knew. “I’m sorry because you… you shouldn’t have to deal with that. He’s such a _sumbag_ —“ 

That anger was fueling again, boiling in his veins, pumping so hard that he would not be surprised if his irises has gone red, and the white in his eyes had gone bloodshot. 

“Keith.”

That single word was enough to get Keith’s blood to stop, looking back up into those bright blue eyes, the stress melting from his bones and the anger seeping from his eyes.

“Don’t. Lotor is _my_ husband. I have to deal with comes with it.”

“Lance—“ Keith sighed, cupping the back of Lance’s hand with his free one, pulling it to his head and leaning forward to rest the bundle against his forehead. “He can’t just betray you like that,” he settled with an exasperated sigh that followed. “You deserve better.”

“And I had better, once.”

Keith was looking up again, into Lance’s eyes that held so many emotions and unspoken words that neither of them could say but were understood so effortlessly. Keith could stare at him for an eternity, just like this, if Lance asked him to.

“I should have fought for you.”

Now was one of those rare moments where Keith had driven Lance speechless, those soft and glossy lips falling slightly agape before closing quickly, presumably realizing he had naught to say. Keith was fine with silence, since he had so much more to say. Feelings that had been pent up for three years, just waiting to be poured out all at once.

“I haven’t been able to keep you off my mind for three years, Lance. Even though you said to forget, I just couldn’t.” Keith had to take a deep breath to compose himself, gripping Lance’s hand like a lifeline. “I couldn’t just forget you. You’re too precious to me, Lance. I couldn’t even dream of forgetting you when I _know_ he’s touching you. That he’s kissing you, and sharing a bed with you.” 

“Keith—“

“We used to be like that, Lance.” Keith was shaking now, but he hardly noticed. “I can’t stand the thought of someone else getting to do those things with you. I just _can’t_.”

“Keith,” Lance sighed, but there was a smile on his features. His voice was soft, and Keith could notice a small waver, but there was still confidence among it. He pulled Keith’s hands towards himself, pressing a soft, lingering peck to one of Keith’s knuckles. “I know exactly how you feel.”

Keith blinked. Lance continued. 

“You don’t know how much I wanted to stay with you. With my family. Friends.” Lance gripped Keith’s hand tighter, and Keith was happy to let him. “I _begged_ my mother to not send me away. But it was too late. That stupid agreement had been signed, and the next thing I knew I was here.”

Lance turned his head to gaze towards the water, the ripples settled for now, their reflections clear as Keith’s gaze followed his. 

“Every time Lotor fucks me, I think of you.”

Keith could not be held responsible for the choke that left him. 

“It’s true!” Lance exclaimed, and Keith was thankful for the giggle that lifted the mood, even just a tad. “God, that’s the only way I’ve been able to get through this, Keith. I just can’t forget feelings like the ones I had for you— they don’t just go away.”

Keith’s mouth felt dry, any words he tried to speak crackling and dying instantly, falling to the cobblestone, useless. He forced a swallow, trying to lubricate his mouth even a little bit as five words danced on the tip of his tongue.

“I want to kiss you.”

And again there was that silence, but there was tension there as well. A bit of heaviness in the air, one of Keith’s many desires laid out for the world to see. But more importantly, for _Lance_ to see.

“What’s stopping you?”

Keith just about froze, his mind racing and halting all at once. Truthfully, there wasn’t anyone stopping him. Keith had made some bad choices before — and this would certainly be the best of them.

“I thought I told you to _watch the door_!”

And there was Keith’s answer.

“Him.”

Lance and Keith perked up slightly to watch a fuming Lotor, who had thankfully had enough decency to dress himself before coming out to vocalize his rage, storming closer to the two on the ledge.

“You didn’t seem to need it,” Keith shrugged, and when he tried to pull his hands away, Lance held them tight. “You had more than enough people in there to help you.”

“Oh, and he needs protection watching some fucking water, huh?” Lotor scoffed, gesturing towards Lance with an open palm and a scowl. Keith felt Lance flinch against him, and he couldn’t stop the anger that started to prickle on his skin.

“Lotor—“

“Not a word out of you, wench!”

Lance’s breath caught in his throat and he nodded, his gaze falling back down.

“Do not speak to him like that,” Keith snapped, a growl lodged in his throat.

“Who are you to tell me how to speak to what’s _mine_?”

“Please, don’t,” Lance soothed softly, leaving one last lingering squeeze to Keith’s hands and a sad smile, which Keith could only assume was meant to be reassuring as the prince rose up to approach his husband. Then again, Lance had never been the best at conceding his emotions, and he could never lie to Keith.

“I told him to escort me.”

The look on Lotor’s face was unreadable, for all about the span of a second. His face swiftly contorted into a threatening bare of teeth, unnaturally sharp canines snarfing and as soon as he lifted a hand Keith’s entire world stopped. 

Lance hit the ground with all of the grace of a chopped down oak, crashing to the stone with a loud cry and an even louder slap of palm-to-cheek. Even with Lance’s shoulders hunched up as if tugged by a string, Keith could still see the ruby red handprint scorched onto Lance’s caramel toned skin, unwanted and intruding. 

Before Keith could even blink, his sword was drawn from its sheath and pointed upwards towards the center of Lotor’s throat, where his adam’s apple bobbed with every swallow.

“You dare point your sword at me, boy?” Lotor hissed, violet eyes narrowing into a deadly glare.

“I am not a boy,” Keith retorted back, holding that dark gaze with his own purple hues. “And I was sent to protect _all_ members of the royal family. Not just your bedroom door and a couple of common whores.”

“I am the king!”

“Last time I checked your father is still alive,” Keith quipped, quirking a brow. The corner of his lip tugged up into an involuntary smirk, challenging and playful. “And I serve no other king but my brother.”

“I’ll have your head for this.”

“And then you’ll have thousands of soldiers at your doorstep, ready to parade your head through the streets, chanting my name as their song of revenge.” 

“Enough!” 

Lotor and Keith both broke away from their quarreling and down to the frightened heap on the ground, glaring up at the two men with a bright hot fire behind those deep cool eyes.

Keith sighed, but gave a nod. He could never go against Lance’s wishes. He slid his sword back into its sheath, leaning down to extend a hand for the battered boy, his heart aching as a trembling hand fell into his palm, and Keith assured him back to his feet. All while Lotor watch, sneering, teeth grinding together.

“I thought I commanded you to keep your hands off of him.”

“How do you expect me to protect his majesty without using my hands?”

“You’re a warrior, I’m sure you’re more than capable of thinking up a way.”

“I’m also a prince, and you must know better than anyone how good princes are with thinking.”

“I said, enough,” Lance interjected again, taking a step forward to stand between both men, looking entirely too small between the both of them, but the presence was still intimidating. To Keith, at least. “You sound like bickering children.”

The red hand mark on Lance’s skin was still present as he turned away, hair nearly whipping both Keith and Lotor in the face on the swivel. 

“If either of you need me, I’ll be in the springs.”

Keith didn’t waste any more time being around Lotor than he had to, leaving almost immediately after Lance did, losing sight of the prince somewhere along the way as he retreated towards where Lotor had requested him be posted. 

Even if he hated Lotor — and he hated him — he wouldn’t go against Shiro’s orders to satisfy that part of him that wanted to shove his sword right through Lotor’s chest. This was all bigger than him, and he knew that. Peaceful relations with Daibazaal were of the highest importance for Marmora’s future as a kingdom as well. Daibazaal saw over the other four kingdoms, as well as their own. If Marmora has any desire to survive, they’d need to become allies with Daibazaal, the hostilities had gone on long enough.

But _god_ did Keith want to kill that damned spoiled prince.

* * *

“He struck you.”

Lance hissed, his head jerking away reflexively from the wet cloth that touched the darkening mark on his cheek.

“Did he? I wasn’t aware,” Lance snapped, sucking in the air through his teeth as the bruise was prodded again.

Coran chuckled, shaking his head gently and moving to sit next to Lance upon the cushioned bench.

“That’s quite enough, Romelle. Leave us for a moment.”

“As you wish, your grace,” the handmaiden nodded, lowering the rag in her hand and turning away towards the chamber door, Lance only taking in another breath once the woman was gone.

“I’m sorry,” Lance sighed, forearms resting against his thighs, back hunched slightly as he turned his head to look up at the red haired man. 

“Don’t be, my boy,” Coran assured, placing a hand against Lance’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “This must be a lot for you.”

Lance scoffed, lips curving into a half smile. “You have no idea.”

“If I may ask,” Coran started, waiting a moment for Lance to refuse his request, but he did not. Out of everyone in the castle, Coran was one of the only people he trusted. He had been the royal advisor to his father and his uncle, so Lance had known the man since his birth. He was like a second father, in a way. Or a strange uncle. “Why did he hit you?”

“Because I requested that Keith accompany me in the garden.” There was no point in lying. Coran knew better than anyone the feelings that Lance harbored for the smug Marmoran prince. After all, he had traveled with Lance to Keith’s kingdom each time Lance had wanted to see his beloved, since his mother and father had a kingdom of their own to run.

“I see,” Coran nodded, giving Lance’s shoulder another squeeze. “And I take it that Keith wasn’t too fond of that?”

Lance laughed. “Not at all. He nearly stabbed the fool. I almost felt sorry for him.”

“You still love him.”

Lance stilled almost immediately, looking up at Coran with eyes blown wide, an uncomfortable heat blooming up on his cheeks. As fast as he made eye contact with Coran he looked away again, heart thumping in its cage.

“Who ever said I stopped?”

“I can tell,” Coran nodded, and even if Lance wasn’t looking, he could see Coran’s wide smile by the light tone of his voice. “You get a little glow in your eyes whenever he’s mentioned.”

“I should really work on that, shouldn’t I?” Lance suggested with a sheepish laugh, shifting slightly to hug his arms to his chest, forearms still planted firmly to his thighs.

“Lance,” Coran began, gently nudging Lance’s chin to get the boy to face him, offering a warm smile, the hair above his lips curling up comically. “There’s nothing wrong with love.”

Lance wanted to believe him, with all of his heart, but the world simply didn’t work that way. So, instead, he sighed, turning his head away to broadcast his frown to the floor under his feet.

“There is when your husband is a monster.” There was supposed to be a hint of comedy in his tone. There wasn’t any.

“Lance—“

“No, Coran. There’s nothing else to say. My mother sent me here, sold me off just to play some political long game with me as her pawn. The person I love is here, and every time I look at him I’m reminded of what could’ve been, and what I can’t have. You can’t image what that feels like.”

A hand gently covered his mouth as his voice hardly came out anymore, and it was at that point that Lance realized he was trembling. He felt a distant burn in his eyes, hissing out a small curse.

He couldn’t cry, he wouldn’t let himself.

“You’re right, I can’t imagine it,” Coran nodded, gently stroking up and down Lance’s back to soothe the boy the best he could. “But I do know what it’s like to miss someone, to want what I can’t have.”

Lance looked up at Coran then, eyes glossy and heaving out a breath, fighting back the sadness that wanted to leak from his eyes.

“Luka, right?” Lance inquired, swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat. “Your daughter. You miss her, don’t you?”

“Every day. But my duty is sworn to you, Lance. Your father and his brother before you I had sworn the same oath to. We both have a duty, Lance, but don’t let that stop you from seeing him, at least. You may not be able to have the same relationship with Keith that you had before, but I know you care for him. He makes you happy.” Coran smiled, brushing a loose strand of wavy brown hair behind Lance’s ear. “So be happy.”

Lance felt his lips push up slightly, an unordered but not unwanted reaction, smiling. 

“I want to be happy,” Lance nodded, closing his eyes to breath out a gentle sigh, opening them once he had composed himself entirely, or as much as possible at least. “I do.”

“I want you to as well,” Coran agreed, as was expected. “As for now, you’re feeling a little weak. Perhaps a visit to the springs would be beneficial.”

“Ah, you’re probably right,” Lance sighed, watching as Coran stood from the bench, only to offer Lance his hand a moment later. Lance placed his hand in Coran’s palm, the older man gently pulling Lance up to his feet and guiding him to the door, handing him over to the blonde handmaiden once they had opened the doors.

“See his majesty to the springs, Romelle,” Coran instructed, the woman nodding quickly.

“Yes, of course. At once your grace.”

Lance turned his head to look back, flashing Coran a wide smile, conveying all of his thanks to the man without having to utter a single word, and then he disappeared following a corner turn.

Contrary to popular belief, Lance didn’t take baths so often just to get away from it all.

Well, that was one reason, but it wasn’t the main one.

Lance was half Mer. This meant that all the powers of the merpeople flowed through his veins, right alongside his Altean blood. 

Water was vital in maintaining the merpeoples’ mental and physical wellness, as well as feeding those ancient powers stored within them. It fed into their inner life force, acted as a safe haven of sorts. This was why Mer sat surrounded by water on all sides, why hidden caves with mineral lakes and ancient underwater temple ran rampant on the paradise shores. When Lance was in water, or even near it in some instances, he felt at home. 

And after being struck by a Galra-Altean mix almost twice his size and certainly more than twice the physical force Lance was, a little rejuvenation was required.

The process was, needless to say, sacred, and commonly performed in solitude. He sent Romelle away once they reached his personal springs — installed on Honerva’s orders after Lance had collapse one evening, after being on his feet and away from water for an extended amount of time. For such a usually cold woman, she seemed to harbor a soft spot for Lance, which he was certainly grateful for. Perhaps it was his Altean heritage, coming from Altea herself, but it was hardly appropriate for Lance to be pondering on the Queen while he undressed, water already, and always, prepared for him, his eyes softening slightly at the pastel petals that danced along the clear surface.

The roses held no significance in the ritual, Lance just liked the fragrance.

Lance allowed himself to inhale the sweet scent as the silk slowly slid down his body, reaching right around the dimples on his lower back when he heard the door open.

He immediately pulled the fabric tight around his waist, preventing it from falling any further, his cheeks burning several shades deeper than the pale roses in the water.

“Romelle, I told you to leave me—“ he whipped his head around quickly, only to be met with a head of disheveled black hair instead of lovely blonde locks, and a silent-shocked expression to match. “Keith.”

More silence followed, and Lance would have been convinced the man had died if it wasn’t for his blinking eyes and occasional twitching fingers.

“I—“ Keith nearly yelled, Lance flinching, before Keith urgently cleared his throat, face as red as strawberries in the summer sun while he frantically searched for words in that lousy brain of his. “I’m sorry! One of your servants told me you were here, and I— I just wanted to check and see if you were alright!”

Sometimes, Lance seriously forgot that Keith wasn’t a virgin, especially with the way he reacted to an almost naked back.

“Keith,” Lance spoke again, thankful for the calmness in his voice that didn’t convey the pounding in his chest. “It’s alright, you didn't mean any harm.”

That seemed to work, Keith’s shoulder relaxing substantially, but the flush on his cheeks didn’t go down in the slightest. 

“I— I should leave.”

“No,” Lance said before he could even ponder the words, surprising himself with the statement just as much as Keith, who froze immediately when he had begun to turn towards the door. “No. Stay.” He swallowed. “You came to see how I was doing. You may see.”

Lance could hear the way Keith swallowed, knowing exactly what that sound meant as Keith’s shoes tapped against the cold ground, inching closer to Lance with every fleeting moment, until he was right behind Lance and gently coaxing the rest of his body around to face him. Lance could feel the hesitation in his fingers, but he didn’t shy away. Next was a finger falling beneath Lance’s chin, tilting his head up to meet Keith’s flustered gaze. It didn’t take too long for those nervous eyes to darken with worry as the bruise on Lance’s left cheek became fully visible.

“Lance,” Keith whispered, eyes tracing the deep bruise, until Lance’s hand raised up to gently press his pointer finger up against Keith’s lips, shaking his head softly.

“I’m alright,” he said, smiling. “It’ll heal. All bruises heal eventually.”

Keith made a small grunt of disagreement and removed Lance’s hand from his face and taking it into his own instead, Lance using his other hand to keep his clothes half on his body.

“That doesn’t make it alright.”

“I never said it was.”

“I should be able to protect you— I _want_ to protect you! God, I swear if he hits you again I’ll—“

“Keith,” Lance interjected, pausing for just a second, before taking a testing step closer. “Don’t make me promises we both know you can’t keep.”

Even more silence, and another step forward, and suddenly Lance could feel Keith’s breath, warm and tantalizing on his skin, Lance shuddering as goosebumps traveled down his arms and spine.

“Did you mean what you said earlier?” Keith asked, effectively breaking the silence with a deep whisper.

“You’re going to have to be more specific, I’m afraid I said I lot of things earlier.”

Keith breathed out, shaky, and he wanted to look anywhere but the beauty in front of him, but he couldn’t.

“About… about thinking of me— when Lotor,” he swallowed. “Fucks you.”

Lance nodded slowly, biting his lip softly, his eyes glazed up and down Keith’s frame, his mind growing a little hazy from the warmth of the water just a few feet behind them and the warmth right in front of him. 

“I meant it.”

Keith’s breath hitched, teeth digging into his lower lip. His hands were shaking from desire, and every instinct in his body was screeching to touch Lance. The heat in the room was doing nothing to quell those thoughts, either.

“Fuck—“ 

Turns out Keith was really bad at ignoring his instincts, as without even enough time to blink passed, Keith’s arms were linked tightly around Lance’s waist and his head was leaning down to pull Lance into a searing kiss, all lips and tongue to vent their desires the only way they both knew how. Lance returned the advances vigorously, his hand forgetting the silk and letting it drop to the floor in favor of linking right around Keith’s neck, fingers gripping and nails pushing into the heavy cloak that covered most of Keith’s body.

Keith was kissing Lance. It wasn’t exactly how Keith had imagined him and Lance reuniting this way, but he’d be a goddamn fool to complain about it.

Lance’s lips were as soft and heavenly as Keith remembered, if not more so, soft breathy noises leaving the boy as Keith greedily kissed his mouth open, a strand of saliva connecting their lips when Keith suddenly pulled away, not giving Lance a chance to kiss him again before he was kissing all over Lance’s neck.

He had half a mind to know that he shouldn’t leave marks — hell, they shouldn’t have been doing this at all, but Keith was much too far gone now to even _think_ of stopping — but god the idea was tempting. It was amazing how Lance could get Keith so sinful, and jesus he was so void of remorse it was frankly alarming.

“ _Keith_ ,” Lance moaned through a broken whine and scandalized gasp, his name sounding so good on Lance’s lips, as the Marmoran nipped right underneath Lance’s ear. A sensitive spot that Keith had retained knowledge of through the years. As if he could forget.

“Off,” he spoke through kisses, tugging harshly on the heavy coat on Keith’s body, and who was Keith to go against his wishes? 

Keith pulled his head away to rip his jacket off, the large black fabric dropping to the ground with a mute _thump!_ , and he surged forward for Lance’s lips again, his hands running down his sides, gripping his hips and massaging the prominent bones with the pads of his thumbs, drawing a delicious gasp from Lance. 

“Keith— _aah_ ,” he gasped again, frantically pulling Keith’s shirt up, hands running up and down the washboard abs when Keith had finally got the message and pulled the shirt up and tossed it away in a moment. 

Keith’s lips and hands returned to Lance’s body as if he would die if he stopped touching him. Which was accurate, because if he wasn’t inside Lance soon he’d actually die. He gripped his hips, pulling him flush against his body, while Lance’s hand moved to tug and card through Keith’s hair, crazy black locks going just past the nape of his neck.

Curious hands traveled around the small of Lance’s back, fingertips brushing along the smooth skin and sending sparks shooting through Lance’s body as they lowered even more. He squeezed Lance’s ass, savoring the moan that entered his mouth from Lance’s, swallowing it up.

“I’ve wanted to do this for years,” Keith rasped out, taking Lance’s bottom lip between his teeth. He squeezed again, needing the soft flesh between his hands, egging more beautiful sounds from Lance’s throat, the prince tilting his head to pepper kisses all across Keith’s throat. Without even thinking, Keith lowered Lance to the ground, settling between the boys legs while he cling onto Keith’s shoulders in a vice grip, indenting his skin with crescent moon-shaped marks.

“Fuck—“ Lance gasped, the curve of his neck delicious as his head fell back, mouth hung shape and eyes screwed shut. A calloused finger found the small puckered hole tucked away between Lance’s thighs, teasing small circles around the rim, Keith’s jaw tightening at how slick he already was. Like he could suck all of Keith in right now, easily. Lance whined, sending a heat straight down to Keith’s groin. “Touch me,” he breathed out, legs trembling. “ _Please._ ”

Keith could never say no to him.

Keith let out a punched-out breath as a finger easily pushed inside of Lance, Lance letting out a moan that drowned out his heavy breaths entirely. 

“You’re so wet,” he grunted, pushing the digit in until the last knuckle, glancing up to watch as Lance reacted — and he instantly regretted it.

Lance’s long brown hair was spread out all around him, a deep red flush spread across Lance’s cheek and all the way down to his collarbones. His chest heaved with every deep breath and choked moan while Keith’s finger twitched with the desire to move, to spread him open and give him more.

He was beautiful.

“You’re so sensitive,” Keith whispered, curling his finger experimentally, watching how Lance’s mouth opened wider to silently scream. “Has Lotor never touched you like this?”

“I’d— _hng_ — prefer to not talk about him… while you have a finger in my ass,” Lance breathed, a deep chuckle rumbling in Keith’s chest.

“That can be arranged,” he nodded, leaning down to gift a kiss to the corner of Lance’s mouth. “And I’ll take it as a no.”

“Just shut up and kiss me.”

Keith grinned and leaned down once more, kissing Lance’s lips fully this time, taking what Lance gave him and in return granting Lance everything, anything he wanted was his. It always at been, and always would be.

As soon as Keith has pushed in one finger, he added a second, scissoring them apart and curling, dragging, and then reveling in the way that cried out, body jerking and grip tightening.

“Oh my— _gods_ ,” Lance heaved, a hand settling between Keith’s shoulder blades while the other found its way into Keith’s hair.

“You like that?”

“Fuck yes,” Lance nodded, a breathless laugh accompanying it, and Keith couldn’t help but laugh as well before repeating the same curling and dragging motion that he had before, another shocked reaction following. “Don’t stop—“

Keith snorted. Nothing could convince him to stop now. Not even if the gods themselves came down from the skies and demanded it, Keith would continue to take Lance, right there on the floor of his personal springs while they watched. 

“God, I love you,” Keith sighed, crashing his lips against Lance’s, where they belonged, swollen from kissing and tingling for more, to taste every part of Lance that he could. “I’ve wanted you so badly.”

“Fuck— Keith, as did I,” Lance whimpered, seeing stars as Keith dragged his fingers for the billionth time. “I’ve wanted you since the day I had to leave you.”

“Well, you’re here now,” Keith whispered, head hovering right over Lance’s, eyes locked in a deep gaze. “I’m here now. And I wouldn’t wish to be anywhere else than right here.”

“I’ve loved you since the day I met you,” Lance spoke, voice barely louder than the running water, but Keith could hear it. He could hear it as clear as day. “I need you Keith, _please_.”

“I’ll give you whatever you want Lance,” Keith nodded, stealing Lance’s lips in a quick, frantic kiss. “Anything, just tell me and it’s yours.”

“I want you inside of me.” 

Keith was so far gone.

It had seemed like it had been an instant and an eternity simultaneously while Lance frantically untied Keith’s breeches, desperately seeking what was beneath. And then Keith was pushing inside, a gasp escaping both of their lips. 

Keith grunted shallowly once he bottomed out, hands pressed firmly on either side of Lance’s head, while the boy under his trembled and moaned, back curving off of the floor.

“You’re gorgeous,” Keith panted, seeking one of Lance’s hands and intertwining their fingers beside Lance’s head. Lance squeezed his hand, lips curling up into a smile.

“I know.”

Keith laughed, his head hanging down to shake amusedly, hair falling over his eyes before Lance’s free hand came up to brush the locks from his eyes.

“You haven’t changed a bit.”

“You’d be surprised, Keith.”

Keith breathed out a crooked smile, lowering his head to Lance’s and capturing his lips. Keith snapped his hips forward, eating up the breathy moan that escaped his lover, and the way they were both trembling told Keith that neither of them were going to last long.

He could live with that, the fact that this was happening in the first place was more than enough to make up for the time.

What followed was desperate thrusting and grinding against one another, Lance pushing his hips forward to meet each of Keith’s deep thrusts with needy moans and shaking limbs. It wasn’t long before Keith found that one spot that made Lance scream — literally _scream_ — and Keith more than abused it. He rammed into it with determination and vigor, sweat dripping down his neck and chin from the force of his thrusts. Lance cried and squirmed beneath him, torn between moving away or pulling him closer.

He had settled for the latter, wrapping a pair of trembling legs around Keith’s waist and keeping him inside while both of their orgasms creeped up on them, building up in a strong crescendo to a mind-numbing orgasm.

Lance crying out in pleasure while ropes of cum decorated his stomach and chest sounded like angels singing, and Keith swore he actually saw God when he finished inside of Lance, hips stuttering as he pumped his seed deep inside of him.

They were a panting mess in each other’s arms, gripping tightly and clinging so close that it would take an entire army to force them apart.

Keith lifted his head, not even realizing it had dropped to the crook of Lance’s neck. He gazed into those ocean eyes, unable to prevent the twitch of his mouth into a grin, eyes crinkling slightly as he looked.

“I love you so fucking much.”

Lance brushed the sweat soaked bangs from Keith’s forehead, giggling breathlessly. 

“I love you too.”

Keith leaned down to seal Lance’s lips in a kiss, slow, passionate and loving. The afterglow of an orgasm made Keith’s body feel warm, hazy, glowing. 

And he had planned to serve Prince Lotor without touching Lance. What a fool he had been.

* * *

The snow was thick, standing several feet high on the frozen ground and raining down from the skies with the ferocity of a god themselves. Grey skies reigned triumphant again, so dark and brooding that the men posted outside of the castle almost didn’t notice the dark raven flying through the sky.

“My king,” A guard announced as he pushed opened the throne room doors, waiting until the large man in the deep silver crown turned to set forward with a letter in hand, sealed with a circle of wax, stamped with the mark of the southern kingdom. “A letter from Daibazaal.”

“My brother must have arrived,” the king predicted as he peeled the letter open, eyes scanning over the inked calligraphy, a smile forming on the corners of his mouth.

“Good news, I suppose?” The woman beside him inquired with a quirked brow and a smile to match.

“Yes, mother. They accepted the offer.” He looked to the guard next. “Tell the squadron to set of for Daibazaal as soon as possible. Keith had secured the peace offering for now, but I have a feeling he won’t be able to keep it for long.” 

The guard nodded and turned, leaving the throne room and heading off for the selected soldiers.

“He did good,” Krolia assured, resting a hand on her eldest son’s shoulder.

“I’m not saying he didn’t,” Takashi replied, looking down to his mother. “But Lotor is quite the character, and Keith had an astonishing lack of anger management. With his grace there in Lotor’s company, I can only imagine what must be going through Keith’s head.”

“It’ll be alright, Keith is strong.”

“I know mother,” Shiro sighed, gazing towards the doors again. “I just wonder how long it will last.”


	3. children

“You’re looking well today, my boy.”

Lance looked up upon the voice, turning his head to glance at the source of it; bright blue eyes and a head of vibrant orange hair.

“You think so, Coran?” Lance hummed, an airy giggle accompanying his words. He felt well, too. And why shouldn’t he?

“I do. You’re practically glowing.”

Yeah, secret rendezvous with your past lover will do that to you. Of course, he definitely could not just out and say that, for obvious reasons, but he knew and that was enough. 

Coran would most likely find out some day, but Lance planned to keep it under wraps for as long as possible. 

He didn’t even want to think of what Lotor would do to them both if he found out they were fucking behind his back.

“I’m flattered,” Lance grinned, cupping his own cheek, which was a nice rosy red. “Thank you.”

“Is it Keith?”

Lance nearly choked. 

“What do you mean?”

There was no way Coran knew. Right? He _couldn’t_ know. Everyone knew to not disturb Lance while he was in those springs, and Lance was certain that no one had seen Keith come in. Not to mention how Lance had made sure that no one was in the vicinity when they made their exit, Keith leaving before Lance did, just to make sure no one would see them together.

“I’ve seen you two talking more recently, I’m hoping you worked things out?”

Oh thank the gods, Coran didn’t know. Lance had to hide the relieved breath that escaped his lungs.

“Yes, I suppose you could say that,” he nodded with a grin, resuming his stroll down the castle walkway with his advisor at his side. “We worked things out.”

“I’m so glad to hear it, Lance,” Coran gushed, flashing Lance one of those bright, so Coran-like smiles that had Lance giggling and beaming as well. Coran always knew how to brighten up a room, even if there was already light inside. “Your happiness brings me happiness, you know.”

Lance felt a gentle breath of relief slip past his lips, nodding and shielding his smile with a curt turn of his head, the brunette waves of hair following his motion.

“I know.”

Lance had begun to lose count of the times he and Keith laid together after their first in Daibazaal, together on that cold tile floor, damp from humid steam and cool evening air washing in though the drapery. Lotor had a knack for getting drunk at nights, wallowing away in his chambers with a couple of cheap whores and an entire barrel of wine from the basement cellars, brought up from a single wave of the hand. Lance would excuse himself for a bath, or give no reason at all — Lotor hardly even noticed his leave in such a state — and Keith would follow.

What happened from there must’ve been obvious.

Deep down, both parties were aware that this was wrong, on all accounts. Even if Lotor was absolute scum, he was in line to become king when his father passed, which crept closer and closer which each passing day — Altean magic could only do so much to slow the gods plans for the king. And if that scum happened to catch wind of their little affair, there wasn’t a single doubt in Lance’s mind that Keith’s severed head would be propped up as decoration inside his dungeon cell.

However, this awareness did nothing to quell the libido that had developed in both Lance and Keith respectively after their several year separation, or neither of them cared about the moral wrongness of it all.

They were with each other again, in each other’s arms, lips on each other’s lips. Nothing could stop them once they had it, not even the threat of death.

In fact, Lance would rather die than ever give Keith up again. 

“May I ask you where you’re headed, your grace?”

Lance blinked upon hearing Coran’s voice, the distracted fog dissolving from his head. Right, Coran was here. This wasn’t daydream about Keith hour, unfortunately. That was later.

“Of course,” Lance nodded, looking up towards his advisor once more. “I was headed off for a bath.”

“Pardon me, but I’m not sure you need it.”

“Oh, but I do,” Lance hummed, grinning slightly with knowing eyes. “Word came earlier today, about Keith’s soldiers. They’re just a little ways away from the capital, and I would hate to give our guests a bad first impression by not looking my absolute best. Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose that makes sense.”

“You suppose?” Lance asked, quirking a brow and laughing incredulously. “What is there to suppose about?”

“I swore I spotted you leaving the baths this morning.”

Oh.

Shit.

“I was there, but I didn’t take a bath,” Lance spoke. “I was with Lotor this morning. He was suffering quite the headache, he had one too many servings of wine last night, and I went to refine my powers before treating him.”

It technically was the truth, but the water played a very little role in helping with his abilities. 

The only thing it did was hide him from sight while he sunk under and showed Keith just how long merfolk could hold their breath for.

“Ah, I see,” Coran nodded, and Lance felt the tension in his shoulders release. “Well, I hope the prince’s ailments were well treated.”

“I’m not an ameture, Coran. I have healed much worse than a simple headache. If I recall correctly, I was the one who healed you after you and Keith’s brother had too much nunvil and you tried to best him feats of strength. Specifically arm wrestling, I believe.”

“Oh, those were the good ol’ days,” Coran reminisced, bringing out a smile and a bubbly laugh from the prince. “My elbow still cracks.”

“There’s only so much I can do when your arm is bent in the completely wrong direction,” Lance chuckled.

They soon reached the double wooden doors that lead into the private springs, and Coran gave Lance his leave and privacy, turning on his heel to retreat down the hallway, his footsteps distant by the time Lance pushed open the doors and stepped inside.

Keith was busy preparing for his men, speaking with the queen about the arrangements with them all, if Lance had to guess. 

Which meant Lance wouldn’t have any disruptions, which was a just a tad disappointing to the prince with an endless libido. 

Lance removed his clothes and golden sandals, leaving them to sit unattended on the cold floor, as Lance moved forward to enter the warm liquid, sinking in until the water gentle touched the tip of his nose. His hair spread around him in curled circlets in the water, steam dampening the dark skin on his face. Small droplets of sweat formed on his forehead, arms folding over his small chest, as if shielding the skin from unwanted attention, even though he rest underneath the scalding water.

He let his eyelids fall shut, focusing on the energy within and swirling around him. It washed up and pushed back like ocean tides, consuming Lance in his entirety and pulling him under the deadly blue wave.

Visions flashed through his mind, meanless, at pure random and sheer whim of the gods wave of hand. Visions of his childhood, running through the sandy shores of Mer with his brothers and sisters, or carding through the endless juniberry fields with his father. Visions of carving snowy figures into the fluffy slate of snow and ice in Marmora, with a warmth burning inside and beside him. Of the treacherous journey to the capital, with swampy marshes and dried deserts littered with skeletons of human and animal sources. Of endless golden statues and towering buildings of impressive architecture, tall palms waving in the wind in a polite greeting to the approaching party towards the grand palace. 

Lance felt himself get lost in the visions, slices of a time when things were better — when he was the naïve prince that was convinced his witty attitude and charming personality would get him anywhere and everywhere he wanted to go, with anyone he saw fit, or unfit, to accompany him.

He let his eyes linger shut, searching deep into his head to find the deepest memories locked within, back to the earliest he could remember — the tiniest of fingers reaching for a blurry woman, looking down at him with the brightest blue eyes he’d seen, or the first. He couldn’t quite recall which.

But then another vision flashed.

Frantic footsteps through the forest, heaving breaths and crunching twigs under heave feet. A crumbling mountain side, a hidden village, shielded by rotting trees and shrubbery, contaminated into a disgusting brown. A deep growl, or a roar or sorts, with baring fangs. Torn flesh. A child’s cry. Fire.

Warmth.

Heat.

So much that it overwhelmed him, Lance’s vision still splotched with dark reds and flames when his eyes shot and blinked open.

* * *

“Your grace!”

Lance’s head turned towards the noise as he stepped from the springs, gripping his robe right with both hands to ensure its cling to his body. A servant ran up to the prince, slightly out of breath, a thin shine of sweat plastered to their pale skin.

“What is it?”

“Lord Kogane’s men have arrived.”

Shit. 

“They’re here already?” Lance inquired, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible yet still wincing at the surprised break from its slightly higher-than-normal pitch.

Lance had meant to spend much less time in the springs, yet here he was, sopping wet in a dampened robe, standing uselessly in the middle of the hall.

“Lance!”

Another voice, Keith’s, called out from the other end of the hall.

“Oh my god,” Lance cursed, turning towards Keith with a strained grin and pulled brows. “Hey there.”

“What is the big hold up?” He asked with a playful snicker, approaching Lance with a small gleam in his eyes that reminded Lance of an excited child. 

“I might have wasted a little bit of time in the springs,” Lance shrugged, a sheepish smile replacing the painful grin. 

“Well, you look fine.”

“I’m soaked.”

“And your point is?”

“You don’t seriously expect me to greet the Marmorans like this, do you?”

“You’ve looked worse.”

“Keith!”

A bubbling laugh erupted from Keith’s throat, and Lance nearly swayed on the spot, the tips of his ears glowing a deep red. Suddenly he was very thankful for his dripping hair. 

“Just come on, you drama queen,” Keith snickered, taking Lance’s arm and tugging him along by the wrist, despite Lance’s protests, which could easily be considered as jestful due to the giggles interrupting his cries.

The giggling abruptly stopped as they neared the throne room, as it had to, Lance walking ahead to meet Lotor upon the elevated steps he stood upon. He ignored the incredulous stares at his wet form, willing away an embarrassing shade of red from his cheeks, focusing on the party before them instead.

“I apologize for the delay,” Lance spoke. “I did not expect you to arrive so soon.”

“No need to apologize, your highness,” the largest of the group responded. A deep voice and strong features that Lance instantly recognized, as if the braid didn’t instantly tell him everything he needed to know. 

“Kolivan,” Lance grinned. “It’s nice to see you.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Kolivan nodded, and he could see how his lips curved upwards. 

Kolivan never smiled. Lance couldn’t help the proud feeling that washed over him.

“You know him?” He heard Lotor ask, and when he looked up his husband was already looking down to meet the eye contact.

“Yes,” he nodded. “I spent quite a considerable amount of time in Marmora in my younger years, my love. I know them all.”

If Lance squinted, he could catch the scowl on Lotor’s expression, but frankly, right now he couldn’t care less about his husband’s sour attitude. Seeing all of these familiar faces, plus a few new ones that he vaguely recognized, felt like a long awaited family reunion that Lance never knew he needed.

Among the eight bodies in front of them, Lance instantly recognized four. A handful of Marmora’s most skilled warriors, and war veterans at that, whom Lance had spent lots of time around (no doubt annoying them with his endless questions and wonder-filled eyes) while in Keith’s company. 

Among those men, were Kolivan, the unanimous leader due to his stoic nature and battle expertise, as well as sheer brute strength that was certainly a valuable addition to his already stacked arsenal. 

Antok, Kolivan’s right hand man. Strong and silent, incredibly tall and bulky (great at giving rides on his shoulders, might Lance add). He was just as skilled of a fighter as Kolivan, but that silent, reclusive personality that he wore made Kolivan more popular. Not that Antok minded. Or, not that Antok _spoke_ about minding it.

Next to those two was Thace, Lance’s personal favorite. He was more laid back than the others, especially around a younger Lance, who just wanted to get into trouble and have fun. That wasn’t to say Thace wasn’t a great soldier, or couldn’t become serious when the time called for it, because he could, and Lance has seen it before. He was the smallest of the men, but still at least two heads towering Lance, and the youngest, older than Keith by just a few years. Unlike the other two, he had a full beard of scratchy hair, which he had attacked Lance’s cheek with numerous times upon his carriage’s arrival from Mer.

Last, but certainly not least, was Ulaz. Closest to Thace — and the playful soldier enjoyed messing with Ulaz to no end — Ulaz was a smart and selfless fighter, covered in numerous battle scars to prove that. He’d shown Lance a good amount of them, explained the stories and foes that had caused them, all while a starry eyed child eyed them with bright curiosity and fascination. 

Of course, as soon as Keith came home from fighting Daibazaal with battle scars of his own, Lance looked at them a completely different way. 

Lance hadn’t realized he’d moved down from the podium, walking up to the familiar men with a bright grin and rosy cheeks. Then he was squealing as Thace lifted him off the ground, twirling him around gleefully with strong arms around his waist. Much like Coran, Thace reminded Lance of an uncle, younger and more fun than his father, but a family member nonetheless.

Lance laughed brightly, leaving Keith upon the steps to glance at a less than pleased husband as he watched their joyous reunion.

Not that Keith expected any less. Just being Marmoran made it worse. Keith was actually impressed with Lotor’s restraint, even watching him force a smile, twisted an conniving as it was, with just a semblance of sincerity. While he wasn’t showing his contempt now, Keith was in no way a fool. He was sure Lance would hear of it later.

“Sir Thace!” Lance exclaimed, an embarrassment pink on his cheeks.

“It appears you know everyone,” Lotor chided, earning a smirk from Lance, playful as ever, as Thace lowered him to his feet.

“His majesty was an honored guest in Marmora for quite some time,” Thace nodded, folding one arm in front of his chest before bowing to the prince. “It’s a joyous occasion to see him again. I hope you don’t mind, your grace.”

“Not at all,” Lotor assured, long white locks waving as he shook his head side to side. “I’m happy to witness your reunion. You and your fellow men are welcomed guests here.”

Keith could see how Lance’s face visibly brightened, as if he hadn’t expected those words to leave the prince’s mouth. Part of it made him sick. The other part was just happy Lance was happy, for once.

Love is a confusing thing.

“I’m sorry,” Lance apologized as he turned towards the remaining four, smoothing down the fabric of his robe. “I don’t believe I know the rest of you.” He approached the soldiers, hands cupped before him as his back hunched forward in a polite bow. “I am Lance Galatea, son of Lord Dyal of Altea and Queen Luxia of Mer, husband of his royal highness Prince Lotor. It is the greatest honor to have you within my home. Please, whatever I can do for you, make it known.”

Lance had become quite the diplomat since Keith had last seen him, Keith could tell that much.

“Actually, your grace,” Keith spoke, lips curling into a grin as Lance glanced back at him, straightening his spine. “They’re not men.”

“Oh?” Lance hummed, eyebrows raising and that sinful little smirk pulling at his lips. He turned again to face the soldiers, nodding towards the one directly in front of him, tall, but not much more so than Lance, which was certainly a nice change of pace. “Who are you, then?”

When the helmet was removed, Lance was met with a woman’s face, pale skin, dark hair and dark lips to match. She reminded Lance of Keith, in a way that was hard to describe.

“Acxa Kestrel, of house Kestrel, your grace.”

“Well, it is an honor to meet you, my lady,” Lance nodded, before looking towards the others. “I presume you are all women as well?”

More helmets came off, and more women appeared. Lance shot Keith a look, and the Marmoran prince knew exactly what that meant, before he focused on the women once more.

“I do hope to get to know you all better during your stay in the capital,” Lance mused, and it was the truth. A rare occurrence from the mouths of the powerful, but a truth nonetheless. Any friend or trusted colleague of Keith was a trusted colleague to Lance, as well. “May I introduce you to my husband — Prince Lotor. Son of King Zarkon and Queen Honerva, soon-to-be king of the five kingdoms, and official ally to the Marmorans.” 

There was a promising hopefulness in Lance’s voice that just couldn’t help but bring a smile to Keith’s face. 

“Your grace,” Kolivan spoke, grabbing the prince’s attention, Lance looking up with those large, curious eyes, wet bangs hiding his eyes some. “We have brought you a gift.”

“A gift?” Lance inquired, voice hinging on wonder, almost suspicion, head cocking slightly to one side, his wet hair following suit. “What have I done to deserve a gift?”

“It’s for you, and your husband, your grace.”

Lance glanced back at Lotor now, eyes raking over his expression, gauging his reaction and predicting his response. Thankfully, Lotor had never been opposed to presents.

“Bring it forward.”

Lance smiled, walking forward to take his place next to his husband, Keith to his left as he climbed the steps.

Kolivan nodded to Acxa, who turned, walking a few paces, grabbing something from a servant, and walking towards the steps.

Lance’s breath escaped him.

“Lions.”

“Yes, your grace,” the woman nodded, stopping just at the base of the podium, only for Lance to quickly walk back down to meet her.

“Where did you find these? I thought the only place to get them was—“

“Oriande,” Acxa nodded, carefully transferring one of the bundles of fur into Lance’s eager arms.

Oriande. The place of myths and wonders that Lance’s father had droned on and on about while Lance was a child. His mother insisted that they were merely just tales spun up by wet nurses, to fill children’s heads with hope and curiosity, and even a little fear.

However, Lance believed it was real. All of it.

“We found these little guys wondering around Marmora. Must’ve gotten separated from their mother,” Thace explained — surprisingly, he wasn’t one for fairytales — stepping up to peer down at the lion, tiny and feeble in Lance’s arms.

Lance felt an indescribable warmth fill his chest. If he didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought he’d never owned a pet before, which was just not true. Back in Mer, Lance and his siblings would rescue animals all the time. The castle gardens were practically flooded with them. And yet, here Lance stood, holding this small creature in his arms, eyes becoming glossy as if it was his own child.

It certainly felt like it, at least. Like these were his children, his to care for and protect, and they were just lions.

Lance was in love.

He tore his eyes away from the small creature, whose black fur rustled and damped slightly from Lance’s own skin, to gaze back at his husband, who was curiously and fearfully glancing at the other lion that was being offered to him, fur white and brilliant.

“They’re lovely,” he breathed, walking towards the man with hopeful eyes and an unbreakable smile. “Can we keep them, love?”

Lotor eyed him, and Lance wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen the man cautious before. 

“Lions aren’t exactly pets, dear.”

“I know that, but shouldn’t raising them from such a young age domesticate them?”

Lotor pondered the thought for a moment, Lance nibbling his bottom lip all the while, until the prince gave a surrendering sigh.

“Fine, we can keep them. If it’ll make you happy, my love,” Lotor nodded, giving Lance a smile, and it felt as if the world had been lifted from his shoulders. “But they stay outside, in the garden. Inside a castle is no place for wild beasts.”

“Thank you, my love,” Lance sighed in relief, leaning up to press a rewarding kiss to Lotor’s lips. “I won’t forget your kindness.”

“Sir Keith,” Lotor spoke, and Keith stood up straight again, looking towards the prince.

“Yes, your grace?”

“Please escort your soldiers to their chambers, I will send a servant to show you all around the castle in a little while.”

“As you wish, your grace,” Keith nodded, ignoring the amused look a few of his soldiers gave him, turning silently and hearing their footsteps follow him out of the throne room and through the wide corridors. 

“The prince has you whipped, huh?” Thace chuckled, throwing an arm around Keith’s shoulders, lifting the other arm and—

“If you even touch my hair I’ll cut your hand off.”

Thace lowered his hand.

“And no, the prince does not have me _whipped_ , I just know when to follow orders.”

That, and Keith just wanted to keep his head. Some people liked it, after all.

“I’m actually surprised,” Ulaz butted in, Keith turning his head slightly to listen. “I thought for sure that your brother sending you here was not a good idea, considering the… emotional baggage.”

“Lance is not emotional baggage!”

Keith and his majesty’s nighttime activities had been kept a secret from mostly everyone in both of their kingdoms, aside from Coran, whom Lance just couldn’t help spilling everything to on the carriage rides to and from Keith’s home. But, as wacky as he was, Keith had grown to trust Coran, and while their general closeness as children and teenagers had spawned some unsavory rumors and gossip among the common folk of the kingdoms, the truth of it was still a secret. Of course, Keith was more than willing to come clean with their relationship —and maybe if he had then Lance would be his husband right now instead of some manipulative little prick’s— Lance had wanted to keep it hidden. It didn’t look the best for his image in Mer to be sleeping around with the prince of the kingdom that rebelled from the alliance, or at all really, considering the fertile among his kind were, quote, “precious little flowers that needed to have all of their petals intact”, unquote.

Lance’s mother had quite a way with words.

And it was no different now, except their relationship _had_ to remain a secret. Lotor would most likely beat and rape Lance if he ever caught wind of their affair, and Keith would either be drawn and quartered or his head would just be cut right off.

Not a very pleasant experience, he would assume.

Should they stop? Probably. Most likely yes.

Did Keith want to? Hell no. If someone wanted to take Lance from Keith now, they’d _have_ to execute him, there was simply no other way. And Keith would fight like hell to stay alive.

“This is it,” Keith spoke dryly, mostly a result of his train of thought consuming most, if not all of Keith’s interest. That and the hope of another little endeavor with Lance that night, but that was beside the point.

It was more than Keith was given, a corridor lined with rooms fit for high status visitors — though, of course, not quite royalty. Lotor was not _that_ generous. If anything, Keith was impressed with the hospitality.

If only he wasn’t such a cunt.

Keith stood and watched as his fellow men and women each picked a room, Thace bickering with Kolivan over why he should get the biggest room.

“Biggest cock gets the biggest room.” He’d said. 

Keith — Keith needed some air.

**Author's Note:**

> This wasn’t beta read so if there are any mistakes I’m sorry!!  
> Thank you so much for reading! Please kudos, bookmark, or comment if you liked it — let me know what your favorite part was, any predictions, stuff like that. Your comments really motivate me! Thank you!


End file.
